Breakfast
by Damonficgirl
Summary: A drabble for Stefan/Elena fans because I still like Stefan.


**Breakfast**

**Summary – This one is for the Stefan/Elena fans, because I still like Stefan and he's in there somewhere. **

**Disclaimer: TVD and its characters aren't mine.**

The smell of bacon and eggs in the house brought back memories of her Mum and Dad, and then Jenna. The first few mornings Aunt Jenna had cooked for her it had painful waking, expecting her mother to be down stairs, and then being hit by the thudding realization that she was gone. It had almost ruined hot breakfasts forever, but in the wake of Jenna's death the memories felt different, less painful and more treasured, was it possible to get better at grieving? Practiced at learning to know when to let the good memories in and when to push the bad ones away?

Shaking off that introspective digression Elena threw off her covers, pulled on her satin slip and padded down to the kitchen, calling ahead of her, "Alaric?" Because it wasn't like Alaric to cook, and it was even less like him to bother if he was alone.

The kitchen was devoid of life, only a plate piled high with bacon, eggs and hash browns, a daisy, a glass of juice, a pot of fresh coffee and the clean skillet drying beside the sink indicated that anyone had ever been here. "Damon," Elena said to herself, with a wiry but heartfelt smile. It wasn't often that she and the luxury of being taken care of. As she tasted the fresh juice and the crispy bacon, she recalled what she was fairly sure was the impetus for this gesture.

The day before they'd been at the Salvatore mansion the day training, Damon and Alaric taking turns holding the punching bag she was working and giving her advice while Stefan lurked in the doorway poorly feigning boredom. She'd been feeling tired when suddenly she felt dizzy and swayed on her feet.

"Elena?" Damon had asked urgently, grabbing her hips from behind to steady her. His touch was a little too firm to be impersonal. "Drinking too much? You didn't get your orange juice mixed up with Alaric's did you? You know he spikes it."

"It's nothing, I guess I forget lunch, and maybe breakfast."

"Elena you have to look after yourself if you're going to train," Alaric advised seriously.

"You're the one living with her," Damon cut in glaring at Alaric as if Elena was a helpless three year old.

"Elena needs to look after herself Damon, I night not always be around. Maybe if she spent more time with people who actually ate food she wouldn't be forgetting to eat."

"Stop bickering, it's no one's fault but mine," Elena cut in glaring at both of them, feeling flustered to be the cause of so much attention for such an embarrassing reason.

Stefan had withheld all comment, if there had been a flicker of concern on his face Elena had missed it and she was beginning to feel even more annoyed with his stubborn facade of disinterest when Damon announced, "Okay snack time for Elena," in the most horribly paternalistic voice and began guiding her out of the room, practically carrying her by the hips.

"I can walk Damon!" she protested.

But as they passed him at the door Stefan lent forward and murmured to his brother, "You need to do a better job big brother; she's your problem now."

Elena flamed with resentment at his words. She'd never asked him to look after her, she'd never behaved like a helpless little girl, and he was the one that sometimes treated her like one, underestimating her. It galled her that now he was acting like she was a burden that he'd discharged into Damon's care. Elena knew it was all an act, and that the old Stefan would never have spoken about her like that, but it still hurt.

Back in the own kitchen in the present, Elena shoved aside her frustration and picked up her phone to call Damon.

"Hello," his velvety voice answered, he sounded surprised to hear from her, surely he would have guessed she'd call, wasn't that the whole point?

"I just called to say thank you, you really didn't have to go to all that trouble for me. I can look after myself."

"Sorry Elena, I'm lost, what are you thanking me for this time?"

"Breakfast?"

"While I'd love to bring you breakfast in bed anytime, and I do mean anytime, I was a little busy this morning."

"Oh... then who? It must have been Alaric," Elena lied. She knew then it wasn't Alaric's handiwork, it had to be, could only be, the one other person who'd been there, the person who had pretended he didn't care.

"Good to see Daddy's taking care of you," Damon smirked.

Elena smiled sadly, "Sure is. Talk to you later."

"Bye."

Elena imagined the satisfactory of throwing the whole plate in the bin but couldn't. For one thing it tasted so good, for another, she still wanted to hang on these small occasional signs that Stefan still cared for her. That the man she loved was still in there, under the layers of hate and violence.

She thought about ringing Stefan to say thank you, but the fear of being hurt again won out over her need to reach out to him, to hear his voice. Instead she texted, "I know you're still in there Stefan. Thank you. Love E."

At the mansion Stefan was already entertaining company in the form of a buxom short haired blonde, but he pushed her away off him so he could concentrate as he read the text from Elena. Then after a grim look he hit delete and pulled the blonde on top his chest sank his fangs into her neck and lost himself in the hollow rush that followed.


End file.
